...and we're off like a herd of turtles.

The following is an excerpt from my journal.

August 28, 2010
Saturday

I am crammed in the backseat of Rachel's Denali with her and Abby, hence my worse than usual chicken scratch writing. Abby was up and down last night and both girls were up by 6:10. We did last minute packing, loaded the car, and hit the road at 8:00.

It looks like we are refugees fleeing some war-torn province. Well-fed refugees, to be sure, considering the four coolers and various-sized totes of food we loaded in the trailer.

It is considerably more cramped this year, even though Abby is our only addition. Her rear-faced carseat makes climbing into the third row seat quite a feat of acrobatics, but we have managed it twice so far: this morning when we loaded up and again when we stopped for lunch.

I brought a pillow in hopes of a catching-up nap but can't get comfortable. I haven't fully extended my legs in so long I'm starting to worry about blood clots at this point. The snack size Twix bars in my bag are helping me soldier on.

Ashy and Bella are in the middle seats, refusing to nap and prompting us to ask ourselves if we really had to bring the children. Abby at least is being good, she fussed a while and then went to sleep.

I do envy the men. Someone else packs up the rest of the family, leaving you responsible for only yourself and some of the heavy lifting. And even so you forget your swim trunks.

So here we are, Hilton Head bound with no elbow room to speak of, two nap-less preschoolers, and the remains of an undrunk slushy from lunch just asking to be spilled on someone...